


Houses and Homes

by baeberiibungh



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: AU, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Age Regression/De-Aging, CSA, Childhood Trauma, Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dissociation, Dissociative Amnesia, Established Relationship, F/M, False Memories, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Memory Related, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Murder, Murder Family, Murder Husbands, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Repression, Thumb-sucking, WIP, marital rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-06-23 22:45:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15616668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baeberiibungh/pseuds/baeberiibungh
Summary: Hannibal has a new patient…





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains the words ‘child pornography’, ‘pedophile’ and ‘pedophilia’. Kindly check the tags again. Unbetaed.

Hannibal pulls on his cuff and straightens his hand out with a tug at his cufflinks. His next client is due in half a minute. He sweeps his eyes around his table and sitting area and after affirming that everything is as it should be, he heads towards the door into his office. Right at the dot, he opens the door and spies a man turning his head to Hannibal’s from viewing the waiting room. Something immediately pings. Hannibal would not enjoy this man as a patient. But he just presents an unaffected smile and opens the door wider, gesturing to the client to walk in.

The man is perhaps in his late 30s, face shaven but still bearing a hint of his usual beard pattern either telling that it is late for him to be out or he forgot to shave that day. His eyes are dark brown, hair ruffled up into a prim look parted to the side. He has on a formal shirt and slacks, as tall as Hannibal. His face is angular and his jaw line and cheeks are rather prominent even though he is not really rail thin. His eyes sweep throughout the room and then he settles into the couch with a pleasant hum.

Hannibal was already sitting in his chair.

“This is a very nice office,” the man said.

“Thank you. I presume you are Mr. Woods. I was under the impression that that my patient is a Mrs. Woods. Your wife I believe.”

Woods nodded sagely, his face grim, lips pinched. “Yes my wife is the real patient, but I thought that it would be better to have a talk with you first. She, the issues she has, I don’t know if she is even aware of them, but I would like her to get better. Hence the appointment.”

Hannibal nodded once. “As far as therapy goes, I will value what my client has to say first and foremost. It would be better to talk with her first rather than being given the idea of her problem for someone else’s perspective. Surely you understand that?”

“Yes, of course, but it is a delicate matter and I need to tell you some things before you can talk to her for your own better understanding,” Woods insisted.

Hannibal gave a mild sight and asked, “What do you believe to be her core problem?”

Woods was pressing his lips again and looking at the floor. He gave a big huff and turned to Hannibal properly and said, “I think my wife is a pedophile.”

“Then she should be directed to the police rather than simple therapy if she is engaging in such activities,” Hannibal answered.

“No, no, see, that’s the thing, she is not engaging but she seems to be able to get aroused only after viewing things like that to let me have sex with her,” Woods elaborated.

Hannibal leaned back, a very slight frown appearing and disappearing on his brow as he said, “Could you explain what do you mean by that?”

Woods rubbed the back of his neck in with a sort of embarrassed look on his face and said, “It is a bit complicated…”

“Why don’t you start at what you think is the beginning and we can go on from there.”

Woods gave a decisive nod at these words from Hannibal and started speaking.

“I first met Abigail on her 18th birthday. She used to be an only child, but her father died in some kind of fluke accident, a gun went off while he was hunting in the middle of the woods and Abigail was with him at that time. She was the one who walked to her neighbor in her blood drenched clothes, in apparent shock, and informed them what happened. Her mother had to be committed to an asylum a year after that. A very religious aunt took her in. She is a very good girl and all of this information her aunt gave me the day after I met her.”

“You could say that we had an arranged marriage. I met Abigail only two more times after that and then mutually decided to get engaged. We married three months later in a simple ceremony. I know she is quite young than me, but you have to admit that it was quite the best thing for me. She is very submissive, doesn’t have a hoard of bitch friends to spoil how she thinks. She listens to each word I say, you know, never refuses, never resists me. She doesn’t chatter incessantly, is adapt at keeping the house clean and me well fed and satisfied. Or thereabout.”

“We started having sex only after we got married, she was too afraid of her aunt to do otherwise. And really it was not that big a hardship for me, we were basically married within months of knowing each other. I knew she would be naïve and perhaps inexperienced. So I started slow, you know, kisses here, touches there. Mind you now, she never resisted, never once said no, but she always seemed reluctant. I always have to basically coddle her into having sex with me, and when she ultimately does, she lies on the bed like a dead fish.”

“I thought that with time things will improve. But they haven’t so far. She refuses to be aroused no matter what I do and have to use lube every time we have sex even though she is a woman and should be dripping wet by the time I am ready to thrust. I get that she is just frigid, you know, how some women are, too innocent, and too disgusted by their own body. So it’s ok for me if only I get to enjoy, except she, even now, keeps trying to hide her face, tries not to look at my face while we are having sex or look at my penis, and I am quite honestly fed up with this show of innocence.”

“We have been married for almost a year now. I make her use pills as I don’t want children yet and also she is young so not like I don’t have time. And yet, yet she refuses to participate, which is so frustrating. I ask her what she wants to do more and all I get is a blank look. So I asked a good friend what to do and he advised me to watch different kind of porn with her so that I get to know what kind of things she like as she refuses to tell me. So he gave me a bunch of different kinds of porn, extreme, cartoon, any kind, and we started watching those.”

“We would sit on the bed and I would start a film and tug her to my side and she would still squirm and whatnot. She had no visible reaction to the porn that we saw together, as if she had seen it all before which is ridiculous as she had said that she had never watched any porn throughout her teen. She doesn’t remember her childhood, at all, and seems earnest enough that I think she was telling the truth. Then, one day, I happened to open up a file and it turned out to be child pornography, and Abigail’s reaction was immediate.”

“Her eyes went wide, her breath hitched and went steady and she became absolutely still. I called out to her but she did not respond. When I put my hand on her shoulder, she responded by putting her thumb in her mouth and started sucking. When I tried to proceed more, you know, physically, she gave in so nicely. There was no more fidgeting or attempts to slow me down or anything. She still would not look at me but she seemed to be much more pliable that I was completely blown away. That was a night of many orgasms.”

“So things proceeded like that for some time. Except she would repeatedly say that she did not remember how she fell asleep, which in addition to her memory loss of childhood, I think is one of the reason she could be a pedophile. That is only thing that gets a reaction from her, and while this is all good, I still want her to be more receptive. I cannot actually brag about having a satisfying sex life when the only thing my wife can do is just lay there and take it all without any problem. And the thumb sucking is weird too. She is too old for that.”

“So, there you have it now. I want you to make Abigail better at sex, maybe get rid of the thumb sucking because that is really ridiculous. I cant have her be like this when we start having children you know. So you can hypnosis her or something and cure her. Make her normal. Money is not a problem and I will always ensure that she never misses one appointment. I cannot have the mother of my children be so hair brained as to forget the day before repeatedly, and also be more involved with what brings me pleasure. Do her wifely duties well, that is. I am sure as a man you understand completely doctor,” Woods finished bringing down his hands onto the arms of his couch.

Hannibal took a long exhale, unclenched his hand from the pen he had been clutching so hard that there were white indents on his palm. His heartbeat, steady even in the midst of a murder, beat hard and fast and all he wanted at that particular moment was drive the pen into the man’s left eye and watch him gurgle to death. Instead he inhaled slowly again. And then let it out even slower, getting back his equilibrium internally while he never wavered externally. The man before him actually expected Hannibal to agree with him and his methods to ‘cure’ his wife.

“Mr. Woods, pedophilia may _not_ be the affliction your wife is suffering from. I will of course have to have an actual conversation with her before I start to make any assumption regarding her mental status. I would in fact like to talk with her earliest as possible. I have a slot open tomorrow at 3.30 p.m tomorrow. Would she be amenable to the timing?” Hannibal asked in a pleasant tone, not giving away the fury he was feeling, strange as it was for him to feel something so strongly not in relation to Will.

“Excellent! She will be here, I will make sure of it. I must say I am very glad I had this talk with you first. You look exactly like the man who has a perfect understanding of what I want my wife to be. Well, let me take my leave then. Abigail will be deposited on your doorsteps tomorrow on the dot and then let the cure begin. I am sure I will be seeing the improvements in Abigail soon enough. Have a nice day doctor, goodbye.” With a jaunty wave Woods walked out of the other door as it had been labeled ‘Exit’ on a wooden plaque not requiring Hannibal to tell him so. 

Hannibal, who had stood up to bid farewell, stilled in the middle of the room, his head bowed, as his ears picked up Will’s light footsteps from the library. Will was a light stepper anyway but this time he was deliberately walking softer. Will was furious. Hannibal could actually smell the burnt crisp edge of that anger. Usually, Hannibal found this anger directed at himself, but this time, as Will walked into his sight, he knew that Woods was getting the full extent of it this time. Hannibal turned to Will and saw the sheen of murder in his eyes and Hannibal felt enamored.

Still, he had to put out a bit of caution.

“Abigail might be a stray, but she is not a mutt, Will. We will have to be clever about this.”

Will did not move, but spit out, “How can he be so blind?”

“Callous men sitting in their throne of righteousness usually are,” Hannibal hummed back. 

Stepping closer, he rubbed Will’s back that was tense like the surface of a rock. “He will get the wife he exactly deserves. We will make sure of it my love.”


	2. Chapter 2

Hannibal put down the vase of flowers between the open jaws of the skull of the high stool and stepped back to survey his office for the last time. He had drawn the blinds to half, dimmed the lights enough so that the room looks cozy. He had pulled his chair and the single couch nearer and a small table as a barrier in the middle holding an open mouthed glass bottle of water and one single glass as well as a metallic tissue holder. The tissues are shades of pastels and look like a flower about to bloom as it sits on the wood grain table. 

His next appointment is Abigail and he can hear Will puttering around inside, the sound of his steps light. Hannibal just wished he would change his horrid fleece lined coat. Really clashed with his devotion to the ma truth be told. Will will be present when Abigail comes of course, sitting in the library chair and watching the monitor perched on the big office table that resides in the middle of the library. The monitor is of course linked to the small hidden camera that records all of Hannibal’s sessions, pointed towards the client from neck down.

Hannibal just wants a record of what was being said, he didn’t want people accessing other people’s personal information after all. 

Hannibal opens the door at the dot and before him stands a young girl, with a brittle smile on her face, brown hair tied in a single ponytail at her nape and wearing a simple full sleeved dress and a purse in her hands. The fashion style is outdated to say the least. She also seems to be devoid of any kind of makeup. Her husband did say that she had been the ward of her very orthodox and religious aunt so maybe it is just the result of that. Abigail clutches her purse tightly with thin fingers and looks jittery as she stands before Hannibal.

Hannibal gives a small but real smile to the girl and steps back, saying, “Abigail, please, come in, exactly on time. I hope you didn’t have any trouble finding the house?”

“Oh no, David dropped me off a few minutes early, it just took me that long to, aha ha, come in. I was admiring your garden, so many beautiful flowers, looks so colourful and peaceful.”

“That’s what having a good gardener will get you,” Hannibal answered back, smile still evident in his voice. Usually Hannibal would be more taciturn and reserved but since both Will and he already decided how they will proceed, he didn’t have any problem affecting a more personal approach. Not too overbearing of course as she will respond possibly very submissively to any domination, even covert. No, he would have to be pleasant and distant at the same time, both assuring and order projected at the same time. 

Abigail gave him a tremulous smile over her shoulder before almost scurrying to the armchair. She sat at the edge of the seat, still clutching the bag, and looking frankly uncomfortable, no matter that she now sat in the room under her own power. Or as much power she holds in her hands given her circumstances. 

“I had a small talk with your husband yesterday, on what problems you might be facing, and he was very brief. I think he wanted to give the freedom to express freely. So, please Abigail, tell me what ails your young heart,” Hannibal ended with a smirk.

“Um. Not much really. I mean I am happy and not depressed or anything. I don’t have to work, not qualified enough and also David does not like me working, so I don’t have to deal with any stress or anything. David is a very nice man, he gives me ample attention, we eat dinner together, never forces me to do anything I am not comfortable with, and we are basically a normal happy young married couple. I am having some memory trouble but that’s mostly due to my own stupidity I think. David didn’t have to get me a doctor’s appointment,” Abigail informed.

“Lets talk about your memory problems then since there are no other problem you seem to be experiencing. There might be more to it than, as you say, your ‘stupidity’. This could be the sign of a more serious illness or maybe your brain simply requires a reboot to get back on track, hmmm? Would that be ok?” Hannibal asked.

“Oh. Um. Ok. I guess. I mean I have had problems with my memory from my childhood itself so this is nothing new. But. Its just that. Recently I have been forgetting a lot. Every day it seems. And that annoys David to no end. I would like to be better for his sake if nothing else. It is really hurting him,” Abigail explained earnestly.

“Ok then. Lets go back a bit. You say that you had memory problems in your childhood, could you elaborate how?” Hannibal asked.

“I don’t remember most of my childhood, mostly of the time I was living with my parents. I guess David did not tell you, but my father died in an accident when I was about eight or nine and then a year later my aunt had to get my mother committed. My father’s death hit my mother very hard. The doctors say that she suffered a very bad psychotic break and may never be ok again. I have visited her a few times, but she does not recognize me because she always turns her face away when she sees her. The caretakers there say that it is normal. Still, she is my mother, I guess I will go over some more times just to check on her,” Abigail informed.

“Lets start with your father then. How did he die? How did you process his death? How did your mother? Why the gap between your father’s death and your mother’s commit? What do you remember about any of these?” Hannibal asked.

Abigail frowned, plain dismay on her face, before she shoved her purse to the side, lodging it in the edge of the sofa seat. She ran her hand through her hair once and then with a definite troubled expression on her face, she admitted, “I do not remember my father at all. Not his face, not his voice, nothing. All I have are the things other people have told me about him. My aunt was especially fond of him, so I have heard of his childhood and his teenager years many times over.”

“But when it comes to his private life, particularly after he got married, he supposedly got a bit isolated and reclusive. He went to work, hunted in the weekend by our forest cabin and staying in with me and my mother. I don’t remember anything from then, anything with regards to my father particularly. My aunt says that his death traumatized me too much and that was the reason. Apparently I saw him when he shot himself accidently as I was with him. Went to our neighbour’s in blood coated clothes and had them call the authorities so I suppose my aunt is right,” Abigail went on to add.

“What was your mother’s reaction?” Hannibal interjected.

“She got heartbroken. She had mental problems even before she married my dad and have me. He was very good to her, kept track of all her meds, made sure she would sleep on time, tucked her in from what the few times my aunt saw when she went to visit sometimes. The year after his death was hard, very hard, for both of us sure, but for her it just became so much worse. She had no financial support, was living off my aunt and off her meds because she had no insurance. Then, a few days before my dad’s first death anniversary, I don’t know what happened, she started screaming and wouldn’t stop no matter what I said. Wouldn’t let me in the room either.”

“I ended up calling my aunt in tears and she came over and convinced my mom to open the door. They spent hours inside, but my mom was not screaming anymore. After five hours, my aunt came out, told me to pack my stuff and took me to her home. She had my mother committed the same day. I wanted to see her off, or at least go with her to the clinic, but my aunt told that she didn’t want me to. Had a bad psychotic break and would take a long time to heal. I did go after some time, but maybe she did not recognize me. The first time she just looked at me and started crying and pulling her hairs. Had to be sedated before my ends she got so much agitated.”

“The next few times, she just turns her face away, avoids me and so I try not to force her anymore. I now go once a year just to see her face, but she still avoids my eyes. Still, to see her alive brings me peace of mind if nothing else. I don’t even remember the time with my mom when my dad was alive, like there is this big black block of stone in my mind where the memories should be and its just, when I press all I feel is physically sick. I went to a doctor, he gave me some sleeping meds but that did not help me in remembering.”

“Since I have been living with my aunt Bedelia, I have had no memory loss. She is an old soul really. She never married and works in the library. She inherited some money and estate from her father and that is how she is able to support my mother and me. I don’t have any friends really, as my aunt forbid me to be to too chummy. Then I met David and Bedelia met David and well, we got married the long and short of it. Till then, I still could not remember my childhood or my father but didn’t have active memory problems either. It’s only lately that I have been forgetting again…” Abigail provided, her hands clutching at her dress.

“The aunt, this Bedelia, knows,” Will whispers in the small mike hidden in Hannibal’s ear. Hannibal privately agreed too. 

“Have you talked with your aunt about your memory problems?” Hannibal asked.

“She knows how I don’t remember my childhood, but have not told her about the recent thing. I don’t want to get committed too,” Abigail admitted. 

“Why would you get committed for memory problems?” Hannibal asked, bemused.

“I.. Well… Isn’t mental diseases usually inherited? My mother has it so maybe this is just me starting in that road,” Abigail said dejectedly.

“There is no 100 % surety that you will inherit your mother’s problems. Sure, you may have a propensity, but that does not translate to inevitable mental illnesses. You don’t have to give in to the belief that it will happen one way or the other. Maybe you are stronger than your mother mentally or the brain malfunctions that are present in your mother’s brain like lesions or the like are not replicated in you. There is no need to go for the dire reasons yet. The answer may be as simple as normal exhaustion and the stress of a normal life. Anxiety or stress that is invisible to you may be the cause too, no need to give up hope yet.:

“Now, tell me about the bouts of forgetfulness you are currently experiencing. What triggers it, what is the duration, what are the causes? Is there is a specific time you forget or a particular interaction that slips your mind? Tell me everything, anything you thing will shed light on the problem, any other issues you may be experiencing. Let it all out, tell me and let me help you in any and every way that I can because that is what I am here for. So, without any fear, just tell me,” Hannibal smiled at Abigail, his face open, eyes much much kinder than any he had directed at any other patient in his office before. 

The perfect predator in position to lunge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abigail is going to start a bit OOC FYI.


	3. Chapter 3

“I keep forgetting how I go to sleep the night before,” Abigail confessed.

“That…is not strange. Humans do not have awareness as to when they fall asleep exactly,” Hannibal returned.

“No, I mean, I don’t remember what happens after I sit down with my husband to watch some TV before bed and then waking up. I though I fall asleep on him. But David insists that I am awake and actually sleep much later and I have no recollection of that. Not even on one day. We have dinner. Then David puts on something on the TV. Sometimes it’s a movie, and sometimes its, um, well, more adult theme. And then I don’t feel sleepy, I remember starting to watch with him, but then the next thing I know I am in the bed in the morning next waking up beside David,” Abigail explained.

“She really does not know,” Will whispers this time.

“Did this start happening from the day you were married? Is that the factor? You feel so close to your husband that you keep falling asleep on him over and over again?” Hannibal asked.

Abigail looked agitated as she tried to remember to the best of her ability. She said, “No, no its, I, …It doesn’t feel like I fall asleep, not completely anyway. I am not sure what even I want to say, but it doesn’t feel like I fall asleep.” She sat biting her lips, face scrunched in confusion and Hannibal could actually feel the swell of pity Will was feeling for her. 

“How is your relationship with your husband?” Hannibal changed the subject.

“Oh, its very good. He really dotes on me, gives me new clothes and food and seems to enjoy my company when he comes from the office, likes me to listen to him as he tells me about his day, you know, very attentive to me. I mean I don’t talk much, as I don’t have anything particular to tell, you know, the usual as always, and its interesting to hear him talk,” Abigail insisted with bright eyes.

“More than his being attentive to you it seems he likes to keep your attention solely on him?” Hannibal asked in a mild tone.

“Well, yes, he wants my attention and gives me his attention in return. That is the normal way of things. That is normal, isn’t it?” Abigail asked with a slight frown.

“If it works for you, anything and everything can be normal,” Hannibal supplied sagely. He leans in before adding, “However, believing something to be normal because you are accustomed to it does not immediately translate it to be ‘normal’. I am not talking about cultural, social or religious norms here, but a more personal one, between two people who are bound by the ties of matrimony. There are people for example, men and women and others alike, who do not see spousal abuse as anything other than the norm, both because they too were given that lesson and the society at large affirms and confirms it every chance it can get away with. So, while normal is more a matter of perspective, there are lines that should not be crossed for the sake of keeping a ‘normality’ that has no basis on reality. Back to you though, do you consider your marriage to be normal? Married so young and fully dependent on your husband?”

“Yes? I did marry young but so do many people. And I don’t work for two reasons, I don’t have the qualification for a job that I would like to do and I do not need the express need to work as all my financial needs are met amply by my husband. Maybe he gets a wife more devoted to him out of it, but I don’t have a problem with that,” Abigail stated.

“Very well then. You are confident in your relationship and the dynamic that you participate in is within your acceptance. That is the basis of a good marriage for most. Let’s revert back to your memory problems. Was there no instances from the time your aunt took you in to the time you married where you faced similar memory problems?” Hannibal asked.

Abigail said with hesitance in her voice, “No. Not any that I remember at least. And my aunt has never asked me or indicated that I had any such problem when I was living with her. And its not like my memory problems came back the day I got married to David itself. It was a few months later that I started forgetting.”

“Was there anything significance about the day you remember the first time feeling like you were forgetting something?” Hannibal asked.

“Nooo…. I don’t think so. I mean, I was not exactly keeping a record or something, so I am not hundred % sure, but there was no indication like that,” Abigail said biting her lips worriedly.

“I am not talking specifically about memory here. Anything going in your life that may have impacted you. A phone call from an old friend? A rather intimate confession to your husband? Something changing drastically in your diet? Anything at all that had changed within the days you started exhibiting the problem first, as far as you can remember?” Hannibal pressed.

“Um. I am not sure. I mean. There was a thing. But. It was. I mean it was nothing serious, I don’t think,…” Abigail trailed away.

“Nonetheless, please tell me. It might seem small to you in hindsight but could have had more impact than you are even aware of,” Hannibal informer her.

“Well,” and here Hannibal noticed that Abigail was blushing faintly. Hannibal was sure that Will was leaning forward in interest as well in the library at the change. “Um, David was my, he was my first. So, when we started having, I mean started being intimate, I didn’t know what to do. He found this arousing he told me, my innocence and naivety a turn on for him to destroy or something like that. I am not sure but it never felt good for me and I didn’t quite enjoy the sensation. He didn’t hurt me, but I would just be very uncomfortable throughout.”

“When David finally noticing, he was not happy and told me to quit acting, we were already married and together but, I just, it felt…dirty. Not something I am supposed to be doing, even with my husband. So I stopped saying no to David, just to get it over with. He would have sex and then go off to sleep and I would go and take a shower and fall asleep. Then he decided that to bring my interest to ‘normal’ sex, we would see some porn every night? Some of them were weird and some of them were digital and I tried to do the stuff that he seemed to like, because he usually told me what he liked particularly, and I let him do it and, then, one day he just suddenly stopped,” Abigail finished.

“What do you mean he stopped?” Hannibal asked with interest.

“He stopped asking me for sex. We would watch some porn together and I guess he found some kind he liked very much because he didn’t tell me to try different things or anything like that. I would just watch it with him and it seemed to be enough. Um. Now that I remember, it is around this time that I started forgetting how I go off to sleep. I, I guess I fall asleep and then David gets off with me near him and takes me to bed afterwards, maybe, I am not actually sure,” Abigail said.

“So, your husband quite possibly masturbates near you when you are asleep and then deposits you to bed and you think that is why you don’t remember?” Hannibal asks.

“It is possible, isn’t it?” Abigail asked.

“Not outside the realm of possibility. Do you use to have sex only at night before sleep? Or do you have sex at other times too, both now and before?” Hannibal asked.

“David leaves very early for his job so he just wakes up and runs just about. And he comes late in the evening so we usually used to have sex only at nights. Sundays were exceptions as David liked to have sex twice that day. But again, since we started watching porn, he has not been asking for it at all. I love that kind part of him so much. He saw how much I hated it and in spite of loving to have sex, he no longer forces me. Or tells me I am acting. Now he is just angry that I don’t remember when I fall asleep. He insists that I am always awake and walk to our bedroom on my own. It is this part that I don’t remember,” Abigail confessed honestly.

“What do you think happens?” Hannibal enquired.

“I think, I think I fall asleep when we are watching the porn and then David does get off somehow and then he takes me to our room afterwards. But he feels a bit shy at admitting to it because he is kind of not a romantic person so to do something like that would be against his character as I know it so he lies maybe that I was actually awake so as to not give it away?” Abigail asked with a hopeful look at Hannibal.

“That is denial on a degree I am not even aware of,” Will whispered to Hannibal.

“So your going explanation is that he is lying to save his face while at the same time accusing you of lying so as to throw you off his scent?” Hannibal asked bemusedly.

Abigail gave a frustrated frown at that, one hand rubbing at the side of her head in exasperation. “It is still possible, isn’t it?” she asked in a small voice.

“As I said, nothing outside the realms of possibility. But I would like to direct to you that he is shoving contradictory ideas at you. He says that you are awake when you go on to sleep but also insists that you do not remember. All he says, according to you, is that you were awake. Does he give more details? Does he say what you did while you were awake? Do your brush your teeth? Go to the toilet? Converse with him normally that he had no indication of the fact that you are in fact not awake?” Hannibal asked this time. 

Hannibal added, “Does that mean that you are sleepwalking without your awareness? Does that mean that you might be suffering from some deep stressful event and reacting the way you are because you are reacting to the stress? At this point, anything could be possible. You were very clear with what you think the underlying problem is. While I don’t do couple’s therapy, I believe that it would benefit the both of you to do some joint sessions. If nothing else, it would help us establish how you go about your way when sleepwalking, if that indeed is the problem.”

Abigail looked shocked at the information. She said, disbelief colouring her voice, “You think I am just sleepwalking, that is all there it is?”

“Some of your symptoms seem to be indicative of that, but we cannot be completely sure without a round of tests and establishing evidence. You do what you usually do when you are awake when you are sleep walking so this could be very well the actual problem you are facing. The memory loss at present may be due to your sleepwalking. There could be no real correlation between your memory loss from your childhood and now and so we will do the required tests and find out for sure,” Hannibal answered sagely.

“Oh, that is such a good news! David will be so happy!” Abigail exclaimed as she clasped her hands in obvious happiness. 

“So very,” Will snickered in the mike.

“So very,” Hannibal smirked his own pleasure at a beaming Abigail. 

Onto the next stage then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> implicit mention of gaslighting


	4. Chapter 4

David, from what Hannibal gathered within the first ten seconds of meeting him the next time, was not happy. Not happy with the diagnoses and definitely not happy at the speed at which it was taking place. But he knew how to keep his mouth shut. As Hannibal had advised Abigail to say nothing about the therapy session of last time and to invite him along without giving away the actual reason except the information that he would be joining in the session, David was not aware where the session would be headed. Hannibal wasn’t sure yet if David had tried to make Abigail dissociate again, but talking will give the answers soon enough. 

“Mr. Woods, welcome. It is very good of you to join us. While I am not precisely a marriage counsellor, I can oversee couples if both agree to be present at the same session and take up anything I have to say with respect. We have much to talk about,” Hannibal supplied cheerfully without showing his teeth, but a simple but enigmatic smile.

“Or so Abigail tells me. I am sure you will resolve the issue today itself so that we can go back to our lives as we are supposed to,” David replied, short and to the point.

“David, it might take a few more sessions and even some tests if necessary,…” Abigail added here, worry on her face as she looked from Hannibal to her husband. 

“Nothing’s sure yet, really. So it might be possible that today is all we need. Abigail I cannot keep my life on hold just so you could get yours in proper track. I mean I knew that with your mother and all there was a possibility that you would end up needing more care, but it seems you have even given up. I know you can do it, all you need is the desire. Now see, I am taking off from work, making appointments with the doctor that is not even needed and it all revolves around you. You are an adult woman for god sake, act like it,” Woods huffed very displeased as Abigail kept shrinking into herself.

She started with a “I am…” when Hannibal interjected. “Mr. Woods, this is a counseling session. While I am all for expression of emotions, I will not tolerate verbal abuse in my presence no matter how justified you might think it is. This is supposed to be a judgment free space. You cannot bring down your wife’s self esteem in a bid to explain how unnecessary this session is making this precise reason as to why this session is required in the first place.”

“Now,” Hannibal said more slowly and on a lower voice,” Why don’t we talk about the actual issue at hand. Both of you have sides of what you think the problem is. So, right now, we will bring forth ides from both side and try to align with what possibly will be the actual problem. Abigail, you start.”

“Oh, um. I. I think I am having memory problems as I do not remember going to bed,” Abigail answered hesitantly.

“Now, David, what do you believe?” Hannibal asked.

“I think she is lying. I don’t really think she has memory problems but is pretending to.” David stated clearly.

Abigail let out a dismayed ‘David!’ at that.

Hannibal continued, “Why do you think she lies?”

“I already told you,” David returned.

“You have told me, not Abigail. Perhaps you should tell Abigail too.” Hannibal said.

“Not like she already does not know,” David scoffed.

Abigail looked on with growing bewilderment.

“She might simply not,” Hannibal offered.

“You know what? Very well. You want this you are getting this. Abigail,” and here David turned his head to look at her, “I know you are a pedophile! There, happy now?” David directed the last question back to Hannibal.

“Are you out of your mind David? Why would you even say that?” Abigail whispered screamed.

“Don’t talk to me like that. You are the pervert. Getting off to child pornography. If I had known, I would not have married you at all,” David declared very dramatically.

“For the love of God, will you tell me what you are taking about David?” Abigail asked in a subdued voice.

“I am talking about the porn Abigail. I am talking about the porn that turns you on, the disgusting porn that I have to live through because that is the only thing that lets me have sex with you. You disgust me for that Abigail, you disgust me absolutely” David helpfully provided.

“David we. David we have not had sex in months what are you saying?” Abigail asked in a hollowed voice.

“Oh please like you were not aware, what with all the thumb sucking, and having sex only after seeing those kind of porn. And then pretending not to remember. That really takes the cake. What afraid you will go to hell if you admit what you do? Well newsflash sweetheart, you are never getting in anyway. I don’t understand why I am still married to you. You are the worst kind of sinner. Were you hoping to have my future children join you in your abomination of a character. Thank god I am getting it out. Thank the lord. I realize I should have divorced you months ago,” David continued to fume.

“From where did you get that porn David?” Abigail asked, her face white.

“Reggie,” David sneered.

“Reggie has three small children. How…?” Abigail continued.

“Of course they are not his children. Its whatever he could find on the internet or so he says. He is quite savvy like that. But you must be the same of course why am I even explaining,” David offered.

“And you say that you have been having sex with me all this time while I was supposedly being all aroused by watching that kind of porn is what you are telling me,” Abigail asked this time, voice quite and something deadly beneath it that made Hannibal inhale sharply.

“You are my wife. Your body belongs to me. I can have sex with you anytime I wishes,” David answered offhandedly.

“So you just raped me repeatedly. Induced memory loss in me and raped me every night and why I hurt every morning. You raped me as my husband because you owe me body and soul and there was nothing the matter with the fact that I was not aware, not conscious, but you had no problem raping me.” More of the chill inducing voice. Even David looked a tad uncomfortable before he tattled on.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You were awake each time, eyes wide open, sucking your thumb like some weird fetish. You moved on your on when I directed you. I didn’t fucking rape you. You had sex with me on your own. And anyway not like you could refuse, I am your husband. Its my right,” David helpfully added.

“I am closing the front door and engaging the sound canceller for your office. Do you want me in with you?” Will asked into Hannibal’s headpiece.

“Keep close,” Hannibal whispered very very low. Will gave his affirmation to the order with a crisp ‘OK’.

“If I kill you right now would I become the victim avenged, the widow or the murderer David? I could always say that I do not remember huh?” Abigail was a woman changed. Her eyes were blazing points of fury and Hannibal was in wonder at the sight. He simply said out aloud ‘Will” and he was suddenly in the room.

“Who is he,” asked a startled David, getting off the hair and backing off towards the entry door. 

He looked positively spooked. He keeps turning his eyes to Will to Abigail to Hannibal. The duo flank Abigail as she almost seems to grow free of some internal cage, suddenly taking space in the room as her fury courses through. Will and Hannibal closes I and with their hands help Abigail clasp her hands around a gutting knife. Then they step back. 

One moment she is there as they left her, the next she is shoved against David, his face aghast with horror at the spreading pain. From what Hannibal could see, it was a clean cut right across the belly and then upwards. David will not make it alive out of this room. Will walks up to Abigail and pulls her back. Her dress is covered in blood as are her hands. David looses his footing as he slides down the door, his head turned upwards at Abigail as if still in disbelief that she could do such a thing. 

The three watch in silence till David’s breathing stops and then Abigail staggers back, all her anger and rightfulness gone. Will directs her to one end of the sofa and goes in to bring a wet piece of cloth to wash her bloody hands. Hannibal made no move to touch her, but did bring a tarp and rolled David onto it to bleed out. Makes the body somehow easier to move. A sob from Abigail catches his attention.

Before Hannibal could do anything, Will is already there, taking the knife from Abigail’s hands and then she is full blown crying with tear and snot running down her face. Her hands, still bloody are clutched into Will’s coat. Maybe this time he will get rid of it for once and all. She cries till he is tired, slumped against Will’s chest. 

“When are you going to call the police,” she asks.

“Not right now,” Will promises. 

“I think I have killed before,” Abigail whispers in the room, eyes caught on her hands, blood splatters and splashes still evident in spite of the wipe down Will gave them. 

“You are a strong survivor, of course you have. There will always be people set out to destroy you because of their sheer jealousy and their inability to b anything remarkable like you,” Hannibal said as he set down a soup bowl in front of them so that Will may feed Abigail. 

“I killed my father didn’t I?” Abigail asked in a small voice, face turned into Will’s chest. 

“Survival of the fittest. Or rather the strongest. You are strong in a way you do not even realize at the moment. You will soon learn,” Hannibal provided.

“What happened to David? What did you do with his body?” Abigail asked.

“He had a rather unfortunate accident about a few miles from here. You were still in therapy. My partner is with the FBI as am I so your alibi will hold when backed by us. You need not worry about that right now,” Hannibal said to ease Abigail’s distress.

“What, what will I do now?” Abigail asked, her head in her hands, the sheerness of what she had done suddenly descending on her shoulder.

“Whatever you want to. Go back to school. Study what you want to. Become what you want to become and then take care of people who can’t help themselves. We will be with you all the way,” Will said.

Abigail let out a laugh and said, “So I kill my husband and now I get a completely new lease on my life because you two want to help me, want to play a game, want to use me the same David did, under your conditions yada yada, right, that is what you are offering right now?”

“Abigail. You are mistaken. We want to help because we are in a position to. And we do not want anything in return, please,” Will said.

“Sure sure, even my father… you are doing this all from the goodness of your heart of course. Just a blowjob here a dirty fuck there, just what you will be owed for being such generous patrons to my mess of a life. Don’t worry though, I wont give you guys away. I know how to take care of myself. Have for quite a few years now. So you can take your unrequired care and shove it where sun don’t shine.”

With that Abigail stood up and went out through the exit. Will and Hannibal looked at each other. Both knew that Abigail will be back soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here there be murder


	5. Chapter 5

Two months later, there was a timid knock at Hannibal’s front door, the one meant for guests and not patients. Except that Hannibal was not expecting anyone and he was very particular about it. Thinking it to be some Jehovah’s witness that may just end up in his pantry or perhaps a girl scout selling cookies, or even an unlucky stranger coming to ask for something, Hannibal opened the door with a sudden jerk. He could hear Will come into the room behind him as well, no doubt thinking along the same lines. Except it was none of those but a bedraggled looking Abigail, two big suitcases at her feet that she must have dragged from the street with great difficulty. She also looked to be crying, her hair greasy and clothes giving off a smell that instantly offended Hannibal. But this was Abigail so Hannibal would give a pass.

“Abigail, come in, you are positively soaked. What happened? It is not raining,” Hannibal asked as he ushered her in.

“Well, David’s mother decided that the police investigation was not enough to exonerate me and decided to douse me in cat piss and gasoline, I assume to add humiliation to the injury. Thankfully a few neighbours were over and they stopped from her lighting the fire. She is in police custody now. I scrubbed off as best as I could, emptied out the tomato sauce aisle at the supermarket while being ogled and barfed at by one particular denizen. But that house no longer feels safe for me. She knows my aunt’s house too and while I have called my aunt and warned her, I know she will be able to take care of herself, in fact scrounge a few plain clothes detective from the people she knows but to actually go there felt like a betrayal too. So here I am. At the scene of my murder. Because that day I didn’t just kill David, I killed myself too.” Abigail explained in a tired voice. 

“Don’t be so melodramatic Abigail. You just did what you had to. Your so called husband has been raping you for months, it was your just right to kill him, even Will agrees with me. See, he’s sitting very judgmentally looking on that high chair,” Hannibal admonished Abigail lightly.

Abigail turned to look at Will who gave her an encouraging smile and then she turned back to Hannibal, a look on her face. “Can I use the bathroom? I really really need another bath, with hot water preferably,” Abigail asked Will, but it was Hannibal who answered, “Yes, we have an excellent guest room with an attached bathroom, you are most free to use it to your convenience. And I know just the concoction to get off that ghastly smell off you. Come along now. And Will, dearest, maybe you should get out of that ridiculous coat for today, we have guest.”

“She needs someone normal looking to live up to. Your sense of perfection make her run away like crazy,” Will chortled.

True to his word, they had a beautiful guest room decorated in darker pastels with woodgrain floor and attachments. The bathroom was equally wide and pleasant with white times and a small chandelier in the ceiling that was more for affect than show. As Abigail took off her external layers, Hannibal began to run the bath, adding a few drop of this and that and ending with a bathbomb, a weakness of Will’s, and then coming out just in time to see the many scars that marked young Abigail’s body. Averting his eyes, Hannibal cheerily called out ‘Your bath’s ready’ and walked back to Will.  
“She is home,” Hannibal said, happiness evident in his tone. Will nodded and then pulled Hannibal to him to nuzzle into Hannibal. 

“We are a family now Hannibal, just like you always wanted,” Will whispered into his skin.

“We were already a family Will, we are just a complete one now,” Hannibal answered back.

“How long will you think it will take her to see this as a home rather than a house she is hiding in,” Will asked this time.

Hannibal sighed. “Too much, if I were to say so.”

“Hmmmm. She will try to push and pull. Act out. Act out adult even,” Will warned.

“I expect no less from her. Now legs go. She must be quite hungry. Let’s prepare a feast for our daughter,” Hannibal said excitedly.

“And there you were telling how it was I all for collecting the strays isn’t it,” Will laughed.

“Abigail is no stray now, she is family.”

Will nodded his acquiesce to that and proceeded to make a scrumptious meal for Abigail. It was to be breakfast for dinner, Abigail’s favourite kind from what she had told Hannibal before. She will be pleasantly surprised and she actually was, when she came into the kitchen, no wonder directed by the scents rising from the food. She sat down to Hannibal’s left as Hannibal explained that Will always seats on the right. Abigail gave a shy smile at Will but ate everything that was placed before her without a peep, even the two ibuforen that Hannibal placed on the food mat after having picked up the dinner dish with a flourish. 

Like a good child, Abigail thanked Hannibal for such a lovely meal, gave another shy smile at Will and walked backed to her room and fell asleep within minutes, only to wake up in terror from a horrid nightmare that made her throat clog up with too many screams. She began to thrash and choke on air and then Hannibal ran into the room to placate her and make her drink some water and let her hold onto him so tight that her hands were pressed white. Hannibal murmured and shushed at the girl till she was relaxed again. He tucked her in and gave a light kiss to her forehead only for Abigail to murmur softly, “Thank you Dad.”

Hannibal went to his bed where Will lay naked under the sheets. This is how Hannibal liked Will best, naked and so open for Hannibal and only for Hannibal. 

“How is she?” Will asked, arms already stretching to encompass Hannibal with his affections.

“Asleep for now, but we may get a visitor in the night,” Hannibal said.

“Do you really think she will come?” Will asked.

“Will, my love, Abigail has lived a life of transaction throughout. She has been taught even by her pious aunt by limiting where her desires should run, and her father and husband has taught her that the only thing worthy of transaction she can offer is her sex. Not even sexual pleasure, she does not know, she never really learned, but presenting as willing to be done with anyway, that is her surefire knowledge of life till now. We have afforded her a home. She will take it upon herself to make the payment installments in things she holds to be of any value. She will come tonight. Her corrupted conscious, corrupted by the living monsters in her life, will see no other way to be kind in return. Sleep now. You will wake when she comes, I have set a glass near the door that will crash over when the door is pushed,” Hannibal provided this time.

True to his word, five hours later, the glass did overturn as the door opened. Will startled awake, making to sit up when Hannibal’s hands wrapped around him stilling him. It was Abigail as Hannibal had predicted. She stepped delicately with her bare foot and came to the bed. She slowly pulled off the sheets on one side and sidled up to Hannibal, her body warm and firm and pressed it again Hannibal.

“Abigail.”

“Can I sleep here daddy? The room made me frighten,” Abigail answered with a slight lisp. 

“Oh,” Will whispered out.

“How old are you Abigail?” Hannibal asked the girl who looked at him with eyes with trust.

Putting her thumb in her mouth she mumbled out, “It was my five birthday yesterday Daddy. You promised me a new gift. You forgot. I want the gift daddy.”

Will gasped loudly, but Abigail made no movement or showed any awareness of Will being present. She just sucked her thumb, tilted her head a bit and looked on at Hannibal.

“Daddy forgot sweet girl, maybe tomorrow. Now you should go back to your own bed,” Hannibal said.

“No gift daddy? But you always give me the gift and call me your darling. Won’t you give me the gift daddy?” Abigail lisped.

“No gift today sweet girl. Com’on now, off to bed,” saying so Hannibal lead Abigail back to her room, tucking her in, and did not linger to see possible awareness return to her eyes.

“She regressed right now,” Will needlessly pointed out when Hannibal stepped in and closed and locked the door.

“Well, David’s willful regression methods will have long term affects I believe. As if the man dead once is not enough. I would have liked to hear some lovely screams out of his mouth before he died. Abigail just now regressed to the very first of her abuse, possibly to the first time she was abused,” here Hannibal sighted, perhaps remembering his own childhood after Mischa. “So young Will, so young.”

“She will get all the help she needs here now. She will get better and be able to live a happy life and be able to lead her own life, away from people who would like to hurt her, away from the inhuman caricatures of humanity that have let her being used like that. We will take care of her. We will make sure that she is all taken care of that she never ever remains with unmet needs,” Will consoled Hannibal.

“She will not remember this incident, so we will not repeat this before her during breakfast. Lets sleep. You were awaken rather rudely,” Hannibal said.

“So were you. Come on here, you will sleep better with me in your arms,” Will said and then Hannibal did just that, falling into a deep sleep, not dreamless, but nothing that would make him wake up screaming as he was wont to do whenever Mischa ever came to his mind. 

The next morning, it was a simple breakfast of oatmeal with fruits, omelets and toast with butter and jam, juice and milk and tea and coffee on the ready for all three. Hannibal placed Will’s place last and then as he was taking off his apron, Abigail walked in. Will was yet to make an appearance. Hannibal could hear the sound of the shower going on. Will will take some time, but he rather likes his breakfast cold for some reason. 

“Abigail,” Hannibal called out cheerfully to the girl. “Come, sit. I have placed your set by my left. I hope you find everything to your satisfaction.”

“Yes, thank you. This looks especially lovely. Thank you so much for taking me in, but I should leave after breakfast. I do not want to intrude,” Abigail offered.

“Nonsense, you are not imposing more than an ant. Not that I am calling you an ant, but rather, like how an ant will never robe me of my inheritance, neither will you is my very sound assumption,” Hannibal laughed.

Abigail laughed at that and set to eating. Hannibal felt very glad at seeing that Abigail had very impeccable table manners and knew how to eat beautifully. 

When she was done, she pointed to Will’s plate and asked, “Is someone joining us for breakfast?”

“Why, Will of course!” Hannibal exclaimed. 

“Is Will your friend? Does he know about me?” Abigail asked, rather nonsensically according to Hannibal.

A nonplused Hannibal said, “Of course he does, he was there that day with your husband, you cried into his chest for gods sake.”

Abigail looked scared now and bewildered. She said, “Hannibal, I cried into your chest. There was no other man in the room apart from David’s body, I don’t understand. Why are you telling these lies.”

Veins bulging and his eyes too wide, Hannibal screamed, “WILL IS HERE AND YOU KNOW HE IS SO DON’T LIE TO ME,”

Will was suddenly by him, who took hold of his hand and said, “Hush Hannibal, don’t lie to her. She doesn’t understand your memory palace or my living there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> something is wrong


	6. Chapter 6

“He was the love of my life, but never mine. I almost had him, in the clutch of my hands but then Alana Bloom took him away and now he doesn’t even see me. His vision used to be so beautiful. So very beautiful Abigail, you should have seen it. His ability to wear the skin and breath of the killers and the mass murderers and the rapists and then pull it off with all the knowledge possible. It was divine to look at. It was as if Will were a god too bright for the human world, but he changed, Alana changed him. Let in a different kind of brightness into him that changed him drastically.”

Hannibal continued to slur out the words as he shook. The diagnosis had been instantaneous and the implication even more so. At first, with the mild tremors, the mood swings and the petit mal seizures, the doctors had diagnosed Hannibal with encephalitis. But then the laughing and the incessant mumbling had set in and the doctors knew. Alana herself had come in and asked if Hannibal had ever eaten human brain, particularly human brain. Hannibal had no control of his mouth as he recounted the tale of Mischa, crying loudly and ugly by the end of the tale, froth running down the one side of his chin. 

A few details tested and Hannibal was diagnosed with Kuru. There was no coming back from that. The hallucinations were worse than ever. He continued to call for Mischa, his mother and his Will, but none would talk to him, fleeting through his vision, avoiding him and his cries so that Hannibal was a mess. It was Abigail, now properly taken in as Hannibal’s adoptive daughter before the disease had reached too far, as well as Chiyoh, the prodigal daughter come home after her confession and crime, that took care of Hannibal diligently. Abigail had flourished much under Hannibal initially. Then his symptoms had worsened. In a state of sane consciousness, he had called for Chiyoh. What Abigail did not know wouldn’t hurt Abigail. And what Chiyoh knew to do would be her duty to carry it out. 

Seeing the incubation period lasted anywhere from 2 to 50 years, the doctors had no problem linking the two. There were searches at Hannibal’s place to make sure that he was not making human sausages as well, but all they found were cured whole pics resting in the basement and some pieces of very expensive veal and beef cuts. Everything was teste from top to bottom but nothing was found to indicate that Hannibal had been a habitual cannibal. That did not stop Freddie Lounds from carrying out a piece with just that name. Jack Crawford, one time friend and guest at many of Hannibal’s feast came to remind him of the time he worked in new guinea and possibly could have contracted the disease there instead because it showed in his travel records that he had been there at the height of the Kuru epidemic or rather recognition as a disease by the western world. 

Hannibal deteriorated quickly, dribbling his food like a baby, having bouts of laughter that brought him up hacking gobs of phlegm, and shouting matches with all the people he could see. He stopped mentioning Mischa and Will at that stage, perhaps knowing even in his diseased mind the implications or maybe because he was simply that far gone. When the news reached Jack that Hannibal had passed away from a sudden cardiac arrest, all he could feel was thankful. A great mind as Hannibal should never have had to go through the hell it went through just before his death. 

The funeral was a very tasteful affair. There were no potlucks placed on tables but waiters who went around with delicious finger foods, all featuring meat in some way. The cured pigs and the veal and beef procured at the end by Chiyoh and Abigail went well with the somber looking crowd that still dripped with diamonds and Philip Pateks. The final eulogy was given by Crawford at the behest of Abigail backed by Chiyoh. It was simple, loud, energetic and true of what he knew of Hannibal.

“I met Hannibal through my work, and knew him better with his dinners. The man was a marvel. He had many many talents, the least of which we may never know now because he went on far too soon. A man dedicated to helping others unlike any other I have seen, Hannibal was dedicated to his craft of psychiatry and his passion for food and feeding. I bet everyone around here had eaten at his table and therein lies the contradiction. I knew the man and his food, but I didn’t really know the man. I didn’t know his favourite fruit, his favourite book, his music, his family history and so much more.”

“Hannibal was extensively private with his time and care. Oh he cared, but as a physician, as a doctor, not your friend. When you got invited to his meals, you got to meet the proud and charming chef. When I worked with him at the crime scenes, I got to meet the technician, but he had so many facets and so much sheer knowledge about everything, it was humbling. It was humbling to be his friend because he was so humble with his own accomplishments and abilities. Did you people know he drew? He drew beautifully, sketches ready to fly off the paper he drew on. My Bella, my late wife, had absolutely loved him and I am sure would be devastated to hear what had happened. He helped her a lot through the end.”

“Sadly not much could be done for him once he was confirmed to have contracted the disease from some dark corner of the world while he went on saving lives. I know he was not much of a god’ man. He had issues with how god ran the world he once told me, but I believe, I definitely want to believe, that he is now in the presence of god and being measured accordingly and found worthy. He was a good man. I think we all can attest to that. And the world has missed out on a great man today as we get ready to lay down his spirit. Let pray his spirit rise ever higher and higher, amen,” and thus Jack finished his eulogy with a resounding clapping from the aisles. 

Hannibal was a good man to them and it was Abigail and Chiyoh’s duty to make sure that it stood the test of time.

This time Abigail, who had cut off all her connections with her aunt who had turned rather nasty when she came to know about Chiyoh and her, took the podium as solely Hannibal’s daughter. She began.

“Hannibal took me in when I was vulnerable, in need of help and in need of protection, and he did this by taking me into his house and make it a home. He officially adopted me and made my life what it is today. I know may of your don’t know me. I know even more of you distrust me. But believe me, he was the only father I have ever had, the only man that had ever mattered to me in all the years of my life. I had never met anyone like Hannibal and I presume, correctly I suppose, that I never will. He loved me with a fierceness and protectiveness that I appreciated, but he also taught me so much.”

“I didn’t know him as long as some of you, didn’t get the time, but I would have gladly taken half of the time if it meant that Hannibal had lived. I would have gladly sacrificed my own in fact if it could have saved him. But it was not to be. A small unintentional mistake years ago was the cause of his demise and he could fight it no better with a blade of grass than with a scalpel. He was aware when he passed away, but I would like to think if he were, he would have been unafraid as well. He never did another person harm without reason, he never hurt anyone for the sake of hurting and he never inflicted pain when he didn’t have to. As a doctor, this was not an easy rule to follow, but follow it he did and the many patients now living fine are a testimony to my father.”

“He would have equally entertained and pleased at the presence of all of you at his funeral. Just before, before he lost himself, he used to joke that only the devil will see him by his grave. He underestimated his friends and I am so very glad for it. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart for being here. He would have acted unaffected, but I know, he would have been touched.”

Then the priest took over, for a more generic farewell and then the funeral ended. 

The casket was taken to the hearse by twelve man, people almost jostling to hold Hannibal one last times. A few of the guests were old lovers and they looked sad and continued to wipe tears from the corner of their eyes as the procession went on. On the left side in the front stood Jack Crawford, almost bowed with the grief and weight of the coffin. On the red side, Abigail noticed, stood Will Graham, the man who had come to mean so much to Hannibal and he will never even know. 

The burial itself was sort. Abigail and Chiyoh dropped roses as red as blood onto his coffin. There were a few more roses, but Abigail and Chiyoh both noticed that Will Graham stood at the edge of the coffin for a long time and then let a white handkerchief flutter down onto the casket. Abigail could see the H.L embroidered onto it and Chiyoh must have seen the same because she whispered to Abigail, “Maybe Hannibal did not get the future he wanted, but they had a past worthy of good and long memories, yes?”

“The memories must have been exceptionally good,” Abigail whispered back.

“He wrote me a letter, because Hannibal brought Will to the palace once. He wrote me as if to rekindle some sort of friendship that was devoid of Hannibal. Perhaps as a link to th time they were there. I did not reply and he never wrote again. I told Hannibal that, and he tore the letter before my eyes but I think he regretted it. He spent many night looking at the fire mournfully,” Chiyoh added.

“Hannibal always mourned Will, that was the problem. If they had stayed together, one would have ended up killing the other and then killed themselves. That’s just, that’s how they were, that’s how Hannibal used to talk about themselves. I don’t know how much of it was true and how much of it was the disease talking, but I don’t think Hannibal ever stopped loving Will, even when he left,” Abigail said.

“He would have loved him to death and beyond. Certainly the Will he had in his mind palace was a dead person, never changing, never growing. Like a butterfly caught midflight and pinned to a board and preserved. Hannibal would have killed that Will too, covering the house in his own blood because only killing himself would have given him the respite of Will’s death.”

“Are you saying that it was better, what happened?” Abigail asked Chiyoh when she said that.

“For Will, definitely. For Hannibal, not so,” Chiyoh answered.

Abigail and Chiyoh looked on as the people dispersed from the burial grounds in clumps of three or four with the odd couple here and there. They could see Will walking slowly over the graves. He was one of the few that walked wholly alone and in that moment, he looked so much like Hannibal, always alone, always against the world, that Abigail had to take in a sharp breath. 

Chiyoh took hold of her hand and said, “Lets go home Abi.”

Abigail smiled at the nickname, the first she had ever been given and said, “Lets.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alana Bloom/Will Graham,   
> Major Character Death,  
> Abigail Hobbs/Chiyoh Implied


	7. Prologue/Epilogue(?)

“Alana, William,” Hannibal intoned when he came upon the couple at the opera. Will never went to the opera with him. A taste like ash filled Hannibal’s mouth making him alsmot choke as he looked on at the obvious happy couple.

“Hannibal, so nice to see you. This is my partner Will graham, but you already know that, how do you know that,” Alana asked, eyes sharp.

“Through Jack actually,” Will admitted somewhat tersely.

Hannibal wondered if he should mention that summer in the Lithuanian palace where they spent spread over each other and inside and were without end or beginning and Chiyoh once had to poke them with a broom to get them up to eat more of her ducks. Will still couldn’t eat duck without remembering that time. 

“Hmmmm, Jack never mentioned that,” Alana said again.

This time Hannibal gave huff which will knew equaled a guffaw from any other person and said, “All the things you do not know of Jack and all the things Jack has not mentioned to you share a very large circle Alana, I can tell you that much. Come on now, we are at the opera. The only ones allowed to fret here are the actors. May I buy you a glass of champagne?” 

Alana accepted with a brighter smile while Will declined. They saw the opera but Hannibal could not enjoy it as usual, except every time he turned his head to Will, his face was fixed on the stage. Feeling strangely restless, Hannibal went out mid show and sat down at in his car. He revved the engine and waited for Alana’s car to come over the corner. It came over the lane as Hannibal had predicted and when it passed him, he began to follow it at a sedate pace. 

Hannibal felt angry and robbed somehow yet the breaking had been mutual, Will getting too close and Hannibal making the wise choice of not letting Will get closer. They had broken up in amicable terms, but now, today, tonight, as Hannibal saw Will wrapped around Alana and vice versa, he was filled with a rage that made him want to bash in their head with his bare hands. 

The snowfall that had fallen while they were at the opera made the ground look pristine and white under the moonlight. Hannibal followed them from a distance and a kilometer away stoped his car so as not to leave fresh tracks. He began walking in the treads of the car before him and soon reached Alana’s.

The window was closed but the curtains were open so that Hannibal could see inside and what he saw made his blood boil even faster. They were not even kissing but they just looked so intimate that it was beyond bearable to Hannibal. His mind made up that he will be killing the duo tonight within the hour, he took one step when the world suddenly turned red. The snow was frozen blood that clung to his shoes and he will now have to throw them away, they carry too much evidence, all the blood he ha spilled somehow congealed into the ground. He looked up and the moon was a fresh bite of a smooth skinned cheek, red and dribbling red stars that sparkled malevolently. 

Hannibal was whimpering without him knowing and when he took another step, feeling brave for some reason, a hand slipped into his hand. Hannibal looked up and saw it was a red Will, covered entirely in blood, his coat coated in it, his while lined fur dripping and squelching with blood and he stared in wonder. ‘So beautiful’ Hannibal thought. ‘So very beautiful’. The red began to lessen, Will’s feature coming in, looking like he did when he had undiagnosed encephalitis. 

“Will?” Hannibal asked.

“Yes Hannibal?” Will asked.

“How are you here? You were with Alana just now. I was about to kill you for it,” Hannibal stated in wonder.

“That’s William, remember Hannibal, Alana’s William. I am your Will,” Will answered simply.

“Ah. Yes of course. My mistake.” Hannibal acquiesced. 

“Come Hannibal, let’s go home,” Will said.

“Yes, lets,” Hannibal answered.

From inside, neither Will nor Alana saw the lone figure walking away with a hand stretched to the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done and done. Thank you all for reading and commenting, it really encouraged me to keep on writing. I will try to go trough and edit it once but it should be minimal. Hope you enjoyed.

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed. English is not first language so please do not hesitate to point out grammatical and spelling mistakes. Kudos and comments please :)


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